


Hold My Hand

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hitwizard!Draco, Implied Top!Draco, M/M, Partially Secret Relationship, St Mungo's Hospital, auror!Harry, flangst, implied bottom!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has been with Draco for a number of years now. So when Draco gets injured, Harry <i>has</i> to storm St. Mungo’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta'ed by Megan and Kathleen (Leafia) C:

Harry had first heard it absently in the Ministry cafeteria.

> _Big explosion. A number of Hitwizards injured._

He didn't pay mind to it then, but two days later, he dearly wished he had. He could punch himself for not taking notice of that snippet of overheard information.

 _Hitwizards injured_.

At the moment, Harry's heart thumped in his throat and he could feel only fear, thick and drowning. His fingers shook and the _Daily Prophet_ dropped.

> _Malfoy Heir severely injured! End of line for old pureblood family??_

Harry barely remembered to chuck some robes on in his haste to floo to St. Mungo’s, grabbing without looking the robes that Kreacher offered. For once, he was grateful for his fame because the other witches and wizards cleared his path as he hurried over to the reception desk.

The wizard at the reception met Harry's look with surprise. “Auror Potter, what brings you here?”

Harry gripped the edge of the reception. “Draco Malfoy—Hitwizard Malfoy, where is he?”

The wizard busied momentarily, then gave Harry a wary shake of his head. “Only immediately family and next of kin allowed in, Auror Potter.”

Harry swayed, dizzy, and all he could think was _fuck_.

 

*

 

_Harry leaned back against the wall, chest heaving. Draco cupped his chin, tilting Harry's face up, and their breath mingled, hot and wet._

“ _I don't want to hear that you're injured through a blasted newspaper, Potter.”_

“ _Berk, I don't get hurt that often,” Harry replied, pushing Draco away. He winced slightly. Draco had been impatient, and they had rutted and had come in their pants._

_Draco smirked and waved his wand. Harry gave a little sigh as Draco's magic washed over him._

“ _Thanks. I'm fine now anyway, so stop worrying.” Harry turned to the kitchen. “Dinner? And seriously, you're the hitwizard. Don't you have your own personal bed at Mungo’s?” Harry teased._

 _Draco gave him an unreadable look before rolling his eyes. “Maybe I_ should _put you on my emergency contacts list,” Draco said lightly._

 _Harry punched him on the shoulder. He knew what Draco was trying to say. That maybe Harry should just say fuck-off to the wizarding world and admit that he was seeing Draco. But Draco_ knew _why Harry couldn't._

“ _I'll think about it, you git,” Harry replied, like he always did. “Now help me make dinner. You bloody hitwizards eat too much.”_

_Draco laughed, open and bright. “We don't sit around doing paperwork,” he finally snickered._

 

*

 

“Auror Potter? Are you sure _you_ don't need to see a Healer?” The receptionist wizard asked, worried and a touch annoyed. Harry belatedly realised that he cut through the queue and was now holding it up.

“Just,” Harry started, removing his hands from the desk. “Tell me where Hitwizard Malfoy’s room is. I won’t go in, I just need to talk to his family,” Harry lied.

The receptionist’s eyes briefly wandered to Harry’s red Auror robes, before nodding and giving Harry the room number.

 _He thinks it’s Auror business_ , Harry thought guiltily as he hurried to the lifts.

The lifts were slow. Much too slow, and Harry felt madness approaching as the lifts stopped on every single intermediate floor. He toyed with the thought of dashing out of the lift and racing up the stairs instead, but _finally_ , he was on the Spell-Damage Floor.

A nurse on duty spotted him immediately. “Auror Potter? What business are you here for?”

“Hitwizard Malfoy,” Harry replied quickly. He forced himself to meet the nurse’s eyes despite the guilty conscience tugging at his mind.

The nurse frowned. “But only family and next-of-kin are allowed in—Auror Potter! Auror Potter!”

Harry ignored him, already sweeping down the corridors and dodging the Healers.

Despite being personally familiar with Spell-Damage, he had never been to the Hit-W’s division. It was sharply defined from the rest of the floor: quiet with cream walls. There weren’t too many rooms—there weren’t that many Hit-W’s. Harry should have _known_ which one was Draco’s—but Draco never did tell Harry his personal bed number.

Harry had never asked.

A Healer stepped out of one of the rooms, directly into Harry’s path. “Auror Potter, desist running at once,” she admonished.

“Sorry, I—” Harry skidded to a stop, eyes skipping over her, trying to peer at the room numbers behind her. His stomach was churning. He needed to find Draco _yesterday_.

“What business do you have here? None of the Hitwitches or -wizards are in a state to talk,” she cut in sharply, forcing Harry’s gaze back to her.

“Drac—Hitwizard Malfoy—”

The Healer frowned. “Has suffered the direst of injuries. No Aurors allowed in, and I don’t care _what_ the Ministry wants.” She advanced upon him. “Now off from this area. We all know of your history with Hitwizard Malfoy.”

“No!” Harry spluttered. “I’m not on Auror business!” He struggled out of his robes and threw them on the ground. “I just want— _need_ to see him! I—he—”

“Now, Auror Potter, calm down, quieten your voice,” the Healer said in a lowered voice. She was slowly raising her wand.

Around him, other Healers were approaching and some of the doors were opening, as heads popped out in curiosity. Heads belonging to those who were allowed to visit their loved ones.

Yet he, _Harry Potter_ —Harry strengthened his resolve. He didn’t allow himself to think.

“Draco Malfoy is my partner, alright?” His voice came out rougher and brasher than he expected, but now that he said it, he had to continue. “My _fucking boyfriend_ , and we’ve been seeing each other for years and I don’t _bloody care_ what you think because I _am_ going to see him!”

Harry took a heaving breath, loud and shaky in the sudden quiet. Harry looked wildly between the faces—shock, concern and suspicion.

“I—I—”

A door further down the corridor opened. Harry immediately saw blond hair. He started forward, too scared to hope—

And despaired utterly when he realised it was just Narcissa Malfoy. She disliked him, and Lucius Malfoy hated him, and he knew they were only polite to him for Draco’s sake.

“Auror Potter.” Narcissa Malfoy’s voice was quiet, but all heads turned to her. She continued unperturbed, “You have finally made your commitment clear.”

She held Harry’s gaze like an eagle deciding on the fate its prey, sharp and hard. Harry had conflicting feelings of standing taller and hiding behind the nearest Healer.

“You may come in.”

Harry started moving forward before he even understood the words. He was dimly aware of Healers telling him to _stop,_ to _follow official procedures_ , but it was with a blank mind that Harry shook off the Healers and stumbled towards Narcissa Malfoy. She lifted a hand as he neared and gave him a folded square of white fabric.

“Dry your eyes,” she murmured.

Harry swallowed, and took the handkerchief with a quiet thank you. He hadn’t even realised that he had been crying.

Narcissa nodded and ushered him. She shut the door behind them, blocking out the irate Healers.

“Draco has not awoken yet,” Narcissa warned, “but it is certain that he will soon.”

Harry nodded but his eyes were already fixed on the bed in the center of the room.

The room was dim, the only lights small dots scattered around the perimeter. Draco, though, glowed, his pale hair and skin a beacon to Harry. Harry approached the bed tentatively. There were no signs of injury on his face or neck that Harry could see and the blanket covered all else.

Draco was breathing, gentle rises and falls, and Harry sighed. He let his fingers caress Draco’s face, brushing away that eternally annoying lock of hair.

_He’s okay, he’s okay._

He slipped a hand under the blanket and found Draco’s own hand, slightly warm and clammy. And he held on.

 

*

 

Harry woke slumped in the chair and arm awkwardly on the bed, Narcissa Malfoy gone.

Draco’s eyes were open.

Utter relief filled Harry and he tightened his grip on Draco’s hand.

“You’re awake,” he breathed.

Draco arched a brow. “And you’re here. Snuck in here with your invisibility cloak?”

Harry’s heart clenched. “No. I—” he flushed, “—kind of stormed in.” He winced as he recalled his behaviour.

“And they let you in?”

“I may or may not have declared that you were my partner. Really loudly,” Harry replied sheepishly.

Draco snickered. “Merlin, only you, Harry. Well, that means I can finally put you down as my partner on all forms.”

Harry nodded. He drew Draco’s hand out from under the covers. “And I can put you on mine.”

“Hmm.” Draco licked his lips, and his eyes dropped pointedly to Harry’s mouth.

“I don’t think the Healers would approve of any rigorous activity, _Draco_ ,” Harry said sternly.

Draco sighed gustily. “Fine. Then you better _prepare_ yourself when I get discharged.”

“Sure—yeah.”

Draco frowned and he tugged Harry’s hand closer. “What’s wrong?”

“I did think about it—about going public. I wasn’t just _delaying_ —” Harry bit his lip, unsure on how to continue.

“I didn’t think you were,” Draco replied.

Harry brought forth this other hand, so that both of his hands clasped Draco’s.

“What you first asked me out—I—you heard how some of them wanted reflected fame. So I thought, if you really meant it, you would be willing to keep it a secret.” Harry gently shook his head, smiling wryly. “Merlin, we fight a lot, but it was—is—really good. You weren’t a secret anymore—you were _my_ secret. I didn’t want to share you with the public. And it’s none of their business. And Ron and Hermione know, and so do your parents and Parkinson. Our important people.”

Draco nodded. His gaze was direct and warm, and it emboldened Harry to continue.

“Our important people know and I...that’s all I need. It’s not because I’m not serious about us, or that you were some ‘dirty little secret’. You’re not—you never were.”

Draco closed his eyes briefly. He smiled then, gentle. “I know.”

Harry’s heart overflowed with mush and he gave in to the urge to kiss Draco—who promptly turned it into a snogging session without even being able to lift his arms.

“Fuck, are you sure you’re still injured?” Harry panted, finally drawing away.

Draco’s eyes were dark, pupils blown. “Want to fuck you so badly—”

The door opened with an audible click and Harry jumped away from the bed.

A Healer entered the room, frowning first at Harry and then at Draco. “Mr Malfoy, your heart rate has gone up,” she reprimanded. She turned to Harry, narrowing her eyes. “And don’t think I don’t know of your involvement, Mr Potter.” She shook her head exasperatedly. “Allow me run some diagnostics, and I’ll leave you to yourselves.”

“Hmm,” Draco murmured. He kept his eyes fixed on Harry’s the entire time, and even Harry was only dimly aware of the Healer muttering when she left the room.

“How long have I been here?” Draco suddenly asked.

“Er—two days, at least,” Harry replied, somewhat confused.

“Merlin, then I haven’t had sex for _two_ days!” Draco said petulantly.

Harry gave a surprised laugh. “What about me?”

Draco pouted. “You can wank,” he said dismissively, “but I can’t even lift my bleeding hand.” He smirked up at Harry, eyes half lidded. “I wouldn’t mind if you fell on my cock with your mouth. Or your arse,” Draco added, almost thoughtfully.

“Oh, bugger off, Malfoy,” Harry shot back. “Get your face out of the gutter.”

“You’re the one who dropped me there,” Draco protested.

“If you’re thinking about that, you must be almost healed,” a voice said drily.

Draco squeaked and Harry spun round, heart thudding.

Lucius Malfoy stood at the door, eyebrow arched. He strode into the room, stopping on the opposite side of Draco’s bed.

“Draco.”

“Father,” Draco spluttered.

Lucius looked at Harry expectantly. “I would like to speak with my son alone, Mr Potter,” he said coolly. “Why don’t you take this time to contact your friends?” His eyes dropped pointedly to Harry’s and Draco’s hands.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said meekly.

He tugged at his hand, but Draco’s grip was tight. Conscious of Draco’s father watching them, Harry leant down to give Draco a chaste kiss. “I’ll be back, I promise,” he whispered.

Draco sighed against his lips, but his grip loosened. “You better bring me chocolate, Potter.”

Harry let go of Draco reluctantly. “It’ll take me a bit longer to get the good ones.”

“Acceptable. Now, off with you, Potter.”

Harry grinned. “Yes, your highness.”

“I should think so,” Draco replied smugly.

Still grinning, Harry left the room, closing the door behind him.

He rummaged around his pockets and was relieved to find his mobile still intact.

“Four missed calls,” he winced. He quickly called Hermione back, who picked up immediately.

“Harry!” Hermione said breathlessly over the phone. “Draco was injured—”

“Yeah, I know. I’m outside his room at St Mungo’s.”

There a brief silence, and then Hermione said in a quiet voice, “Oh. They’re not letting you in?”

Harry smiled ruefully. “They did. I...I basically told the entire Spell-Damage ward that we’re partners.”

“Oh, _Harry_.” Harry could imagine her smiling.

“I know.”

“How is Draco then?”

Harry felt himself grin broadly, as he snuck a look at the closed door. “He’s going to be fine, Hermione! He’s awake and complaining.”

“Being Draco then,” Hermione laughed. “But remember to take care of yourself, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry mumbled.

Hermione made a sound of disbelief. “Last time you ate?”

“Breakfast.” Harry hadn’t _finished_ breakfast, but he _did_ eat...

“Harry! Go and eat dinner! Oh—you haven’t notified Kingsley that you’ll be off work for a while, have you?”

Harry groaned. “Got it. Food, Kingsley.”

“I’ll talk to you after then, Harry.”

“Okay, bye, Hermione—”

“—and you better not be thinking of sleeping at Draco’s bed side!” Hermione quickly added.

Harry floundered for a reply, but the line cut. Defeated, Harry put his phone away.

 

*

 

Harry did not think he was imagining all the sidelong looks cast his way when he went to one of the private fire-call only floos. Then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Closing the door after entering the small floo room was a relief. Harry threw in some powder, calling out Kingsley’s office.

Kingsley’s face eventually appeared. He looked at Harry in surprise. “Harry! You haven’t been in all day.”

“Hello, Kingsley,” Harry said, hoping he looked suitably contrite. “An emergency came up, and I won’t be in for a few days.”

Kingsley nodded. “Very well.” He paused, shifting in the flames. “Do you mind me asking what the emergency is? Is everything okay now?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair to buy time. In the end though, “No, it’s fine. You’ll probably hear about it in the newspapers.”

Harry smiled wryly, and Kingsley chuckled.

“I’m currently in a relationship with Draco Malfoy.”

To Kingsley’s credit, he didn’t look any more surprised than when Harry first called him. “He was injured a few days ago,” Kingsley said slowly.

“Yes, and I only found out just this morning and—” Harry faltered.

Kingsley nodded. “I understand. I won’t keep you then—just return when you’re ready.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you in a few days, hopefully.”

“Indeed.” Kingsley’s face disappeared from the flames and the floo closed.

When Harry opened the door, a few of those waiting jumped back, looking guilty. Harry wondered idly if the floo rooms were sound proof, but realised that it didn’t matter—the news was going to spread regardless.

That didn’t mean Harry wanted to brave the hospital’s public cafeteria though, instead opting to Apparate out to Muggle London. He dutifully ate some dinner and found a still-open chocolate shop.

By the time he returned to Draco’s bed, Draco’s father was gone and Draco was asleep again. Harry shot some cushioning charms at the bedside chair and sat down.

He wondered if he would regret going public. But as he crept a hand over Draco’s under the blankets, he found it impossible to.

 

*

 

“ _Why do_ I _have to always go over to your place, Potter?” Draco said, voice floating through the floo. Despite his tone, Harry could hear him rummaging around for his overnight things._

“ _Is it Potter now, Draco?”_

“ _It is when I feel like it,_ Potter _.”_

_Harry startled and leaned away from the floo in time to catch the bag through the fire, which was quickly followed by a sharply dressed Draco Malfoy._

_Harry looked Draco up and down appreciatively. “Had to impress some important people?”_

_Draco smirked. “I_ am _impressive, aren’t I?”_

_Harry rolled his eyes, chucking the bag back at Draco. Draco caught it with a scoff._

“ _If you’re going to be like that, I’m going to have some Lychee Oolong tea and you will have nothing.”_

“ _I don’t have any oolong tea, let alone_ lychee—”

 _Draco sidestepped Harry. “That’s why_ you _should come over to the Manor. Obviously, I brought my own.”_

_Harry trailed after Draco. “But your parents—”_

“ _It’s not like they don’t know.”_

“ _Can’t you just—just leave your favourite teas here?”_

“ _That would imply that I’m moving in. And here I thought you wanted to keep this all a secret,” Draco said casually, flicking a spell at the kettle._

_Harry leaned against the doorframe, frowning. “It’s only a bit of tea.”_

_Draco opened his bag and withdrew a tin in triumph. “It is_ not ‘ _only a bit of tea’, Potter.” Harry rolled his eyes but Draco continued. “There is a different tea for every occasion, time and place. Teas cycle with the seasons, and the variation in flavour can be exquisite.”_

“ _I’ll be in bed then.” Harry said. “Whether or not you’ll follow...”_

 _Draco turned his back to Harry, busying himself with the apparently intensive task of making a cup of tea. “_ My _bed is bigger than yours,” Draco muttered. Louder, he added, “I’ll be there when I feel like calling you Harry again.”_

_Harry walked to Draco, placing a hand on his arm. “We’ll go to the Manor next, alright?”_

“ _That’s only_ fair _,” Draco said, bitterness tinging his words._

 _Harry had a good idea of what happened at the Ministry, then._ You’re still one of the best Hitwizards _, Harry wanted to say, but experience taught him that in this mood, Draco was likely to mention Voldemort and subsequently become sullen and cold._

_Instead, Harry manoeuvred one of Draco’s arms and tucked himself into Draco’s side. They stood like that for a few minutes; Harry regulating his breathing and Draco sipping his tea._

_Draco set the teacup down._

“ _Only sleeping tonight. I need to return to the Manor early tomorrow morning before going to the Ministry.”_

“ _Alright.”_

_Draco kissed him, and Harry knew that they were okay._

 

*

 

There was the most annoying crick in his neck when he woke up.

“Making sleeping by my bed a habit, Harry?” Draco asked, eyes glinting.

“Prat. You don’t want me to leave, do you?” Harry winced. His shoulders and arms were bloody sore.

Draco did a mediocre attempt at shrugging, given that he was lying down. “You should see what the papers are saying.”

Harry was puzzled. “You can move now?”

“Pansy came in before. While you were sleeping.” Draco smirked. “She may have taken pictures of us. To commemorate the occasion.”

Harry groaned. “She probably thinks I look adorable or innocent or some rot—”

“Oh, she does,” Draco said lightly, grinning widely now. “It’s the hair, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes—no week had gone by without Draco making a comment about his hair. “I don’t want to look at the newspapers.”

“They weren’t all that bad. Apparently we’re ‘star-crossed’ lovers. Or that thin line between love and hate.” Draco looked thoughtful. “I wonder where they got those lines. And then there was the same old Death-Eater-and-Saviour rubbish—”

Harry decided that this was a good time to kiss Draco—but Draco scrunched his nose and turned his face away.

“What?” Harry protested.

“You stink. At least go home and get a change of clothes,” Draco retorted. “ _I_ have a bleeding injury! You don’t.”

Harry folded his arms, a gesture he’d gotten from Draco. “Yesterday, you were ready for sex, but today, you don’t even want to _kiss_?”

“Crushed chocolates,” Draco said shortly, scowling.

Harry gaped. “That’s all?” He stuck a hand down his front pocket and retrieved the shrunken box of chocolates. Enlarging it to its original size, he realised that the chocolates were crushed _and_ partially melted. “Oh, fuck.”

Draco gave a huge sigh. “Feed them to me, and I may reconsider giving you a kiss.”

Draco said it with such a pompous tone that Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly inspired, Harry popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth and grinned wickedly.

He didn’t expect Draco’s hand to shoot out and grab at his shirt, pulling him in. Harry quickly recovered, completing the last of the distance. Their mouths almost crashed together, and Draco’s tongue thrust into Harry’s mouth, sweeping across his tongue and teeth and any other place that had traces of chocolate.

When Draco decided it was time for air, Harry let out a gasp of laughter. Draco grinned back and wiggled his eyebrows.

 

*

 

The Healer nodded grudgingly. “Mr. Malfoy, you are well enough to go. However—” she quickly continued, “—no strenuous activity for at least another week, and remember to consistently take your potions.”

Draco nodded. “Of course.” He held out a hand, which Harry obligingly took, and stood up.

The Healer sighed. “You are free to go.”

Harry was amused at how defeated the Healer seemed as she left the room first.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” Draco suddenly said.

“What—” Harry turned back to Draco. Draco, however, had retrieved his wand from the bedside table and was stroking it reverently. Embarrassment heated Harry’s face just as Draco caught his gaze.

Draco smirked. “I don’t miss you. I saw you every day, didn’t I?” He gave his wand one more caress and tucked it away.

Harry rolled his eyes, and followed Draco out of the room. Some of the Healers looked at Harry and Draco with that same resigned expression. And some of the people just looked.

Harry shifted nervously, and quickened his pace to walk beside Draco.

Draco glanced back at Harry, sly.

“There is something I can do now,” Draco said.

Harry lifted his eyebrows.

Draco said nothing more, but without looking at Harry, Draco’s hand crept out and firmly took hold of Harry’s.


End file.
